Burgling A Truce
by Jimperbam
Summary: Bilbo is frustrated that his companions do not see the beauty of Rivendell as he does. He makes up his mind to give his Dwarf friends a reason to view their Elf hosts in a bit more positive light in the best way he can think how: alcohol, and lots of it.


So maybe Bilbo isn't technically _burgling_ anything, but he is being a manipulative little shit. Luckily, he uses his powers for the greater good. At this point y'all should just expect that anything I post will contain hella Bagginshield, because lbr, the movies were nothing but. Also I've been wanting to put Thorin on that harp in Rivendell since I saw the movie. WHY DID HE NOT GET ON THE HARP? IT IS A DELETED SCENE I SWEAR IT HAPPENED.

Disclaimer: all hail the great and powerful Tolkien.

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><p>The intricacies of Rivendell were to Bilbo like poetry made solid. In the pillars were carved ornate patterns of vines; every leaf had a texture. The domed ceilings, most of which were open, celebrated the sky in traditional Elvish fashion. Even the lamp holders had an organic twirl that reminded him of the final dance of a raindrop as it hits the ground. The quiet music that constantly drifted through the inviting halls was the crown jewel of the Last Homely House.<p>

Unfortunately, Bilbo's companions were less than enchanted.

He was mortified when the Dwarves took apart a chair to use as kindling for a fire. "You could have just eaten at dinner!" he exclaimed crossly, which earned him scornful laughs and sarcastic snorts. He mourned the poor chair, likely because it reminded him of the ones in Bag End, and this was the closest to home he'd felt since leaving the Shire.

"Why so dim, laddie?" Balin asked when he spotted Bilbo sulking on the edge of things.

"You wouldn't understand," Bilbo replied curtly. He was not in the mood for a lecture about the shortcomings of Elves.

"I could do my best."

"It's just-it's so beautiful here!" he burst out against his will. "And they've gone and burned a chair! I mean no disrespect to your kin-I know they dislike Elves and they have a reason to-but given the circumstances-"

Balin _mmm_ed wisely. "I see your point. I'm old enough to see things from many points of view. But forgive them, Bilbo. They find themselves in the home of their enemy. They're coping the best they know how."

"But Lord Elrond is _not_ their enemy!"

"You'd have a job of convincing them of that, Thorin especially."

Bilbo's thoughts drifted to the leader of the company. He'd been rather impressed with Thorin's manners at dinner. It occurred to him that he hadn't seen the Dwarf king since the meal. _Probably off brooding_, he thought. _That's all he seems to do_.

"Well, I won't stand for it," Bilbo said firmly. "I'm going to do something about it right this instant!"

_Doing something_ did not include giving a speech as to why the Dwarves should be more grateful for the hospitality. Bilbo was much too smart for that. He intended to take the direct route to his companions' hearts: through their stomachs.

Bilbo scurried over the chilly stone floors in search of someone, anyone he could talk to. He was worried that all the Elves had gone to bed when he right into the person he most wanted to see.

"Goodness! Do excuse me, my Lord Elrond." Bilbo bowed awkwardly.

"Goodness, indeed! Where are you off to in such a hurry, Master Baggins?" the Elf-lord inquired with a slight smile.

"Seeking you, conveniently enough. I would like to thank you for your kindness. After the road so far, it is most appreciated. I do wonder, however, if I might stretch the limits of your hospitality?"

"Gandalf has told me much of Halflings, but he neglected to include their exemplary manners! Anything you ask shall be yours, good guest."

"I would only trouble you for three barrels of your best wine."

"Three? Then something tells me you won't be drinking it all yourself."

"No, not exactly."

Lord Elrond indulged Bilbo's request, plus interest: he sent for five barrels instead of three, and silver cups with which to drink. "We'll hardly miss it," he said when Bilbo protested. "It is my pleasure to aid you on your kind mission. Go now, deliver these with my compliments."

Elves assisted Bilbo in transporting the barrels of wine to where the Dwarves were staying. They stacked the barrels on the fringe of things at Bilbo's request; he preferred they remain unseen so as not to upset his plans. With great effort he turned one on its side and rolled it into the light of the fire.

"Look here, my merry chaps!" he called. "Lord Elrond sends this offering with his complements."

The various exclamations of "What? No!" and "It couldn't be!" were silenced when the Dwarves discovered the other four casks. They exchanged astonished and wary looks.

"Surely you wouldn't let such a gift go to waste?" Bilbo prompted.

"He's right!" Balin put in. "We must test it to see if it's as good as Dwarven mead. And look, he's given us silver cups."

"Only fitting for a king's company, he said," Bilbo lied gracefully.

And the Dwarves, who Bilbo had noticed were not prone to over thinking, cracked into the barrels at once.

The scene unfolded exactly as Bilbo had planned. He surveyed the growing party with a triumphant smile until he noticed that one silver chalice remained empty. He filled it from the barrel that seemed to be the most favorite and again set off into the night.

Soft music guided his feet without him knowing. He ended up at the dining hall, where silvery chords of a vaguely melancholy song drifted from the corner. Bilbo was shocked to see Thorin seated at the large harp, his fingers running masterfully over the delicate strands.

"That's lovely," Bilbo murmured without meaning to.

The note went sour as Thorin twisted around in surprise. He settled slightly upon seeing the hobbit. "Oh. It's you."

"Yes. Just me." Bilbo approached the world-weary king. "I came to give you this."

"A cup?"

"A cup of Rivendell's finest wine, sent with compliments from our host. There's more upstairs."

Thorin's piercing blue eyes rested knowingly on Bilbo. "I would think it poison, but I doubt the Elf-lord would disrespect his good guest in such a manner."

"I-I don't know what you mean-" Bilbo stammered.

"Voices carry in such an open home," Thorin said carelessly. "What I want to know is why."

"I...I suppose I just wanted everyone to get along and be happy," Bilbo said quietly. "And it seems to have worked. The others are very much enjoying themselves. You could come back and drink with them and see if it raises your spirits."

"I'd rather stay here." Thorin gazed out over the moon-painted valley. "It's not wholly unappealing, this view."

Bilbo rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, I should like more time with this harp before an Elf returns to claim it."

"Yes, I didn't know you played."

Thorin nodded once.

"Well then." Bilbo sat cross-legged in the floor. "Give us a song."

Finally the corners of Thorin's mouth twitched upwards. "It has been a long time since I've played for an audience. I wouldn't like you to judge my ability on what you hear now."

"Practice makes perfect, doesn't it? And certainly you'll want to practice for when you're back in your home. I imagine sound travels much more in large stone halls than it does even here."

Thorin gazed impassively at Bilbo for a moment before once again laying to the grand instrument. The valley was filled with gentle music that spoke of golden threads and shooting stars. The effect was breathtaking. Bilbo found himself growing sleepy and oddly nostalgic for places he'd never been. He felt that, artful as all of Rivendell was, a measure of its secrets and grace had come and would go with Thorin.


End file.
